


Baby, I Think That's Gonna Bruise

by ZoeBug



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Biting, Cunnilingus, F/M, Femdom, Graphic Sexual Content, Hair Pulling, Oral Sex, Power Dynamics, RivaMika Week, RivaMika Week 2014, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 02:03:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoeBug/pseuds/ZoeBug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for RivaMika Week - Day 5 - Pain</p><p>"Sometimes I forget how much you get off on pain, you sick fuck." Her voice is low and breathless in his ear.</p><p>"You're one to talk, Ackerman."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby, I Think That's Gonna Bruise

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [an ember in the rafters](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026117) by [addandsubtract](https://archiveofourown.org/users/addandsubtract/pseuds/addandsubtract). 



> RivaMika Week 2014  
> Day 5 (Smut Day!) Prompt: Dolor - "Pain"
> 
> I wanted to do a full sex scene but I ran out of time before the day and ran out of steam.  
> I set out to write a back and forth sexual power grab with Levi ending up on top...and that is not what this is at all...what happened? Top!Mikasa is what happened.  
> -singing- how did this happen to meeeee?  
> But once I knew I was going in that direction, I was greatly inspired by "an ember in the rafters" by addandsubtract like holy wow yes thank you for that fic.
> 
> Anyway. Enjoy your Dom!Mikasa, everyone. I know Levi did.

_You can have my isolation_  
_You can have the hate that it brings_  
_You can have my absence of faith_  
_You can have my everything_  
  
_Help me_  
_Tear down my reason_  
_Help me_  
_It's your sex I can smell_  
_Help me_  
_You make me perfect_  
_Help me become somebody else_

-Closer, by: Nine Inch Nails

\----

They are always, consistently, without fail, rough with each other.

There is nothing  tender or careful about the way they fuck.

But then again, when two swirling storms of rage and discipline and grief meet, what else would you expect.

"I won't fucking break, pipsqueak, _harder,_ " she hisses into the shell of his ear the first time, earning her a low growl of "Shut the fuck up, Ackerman," and a rough thrust in response.

If it weren't for the lack of clothes, it might be mistaken for a wrestling match or a horizontal fist fight. They are a flurry of teeth and pressing knuckles, growling dark, bitter words, movements frenzied and desperate.

They are always, like this: taking turns forcing the other to submission because they need to both be in control and relinquish it. Sometimes Levi takes control, hand pressing tight against her throat as he fucks into her, whispering degrading, biting phrases into her ear, teeth drawing blood. Other times, Mikasa ties his wrists to the headboard of his bed, fingernails cutting bloody moons into his hard chest as she rides him long and hard making him beg before she'll let him come.

And this time is no exception.

He looks up from his book and across the room from where he sits in an armchair in a corner of his chambers when he hears the door open.

Of course it's her.

She slips in, shutting the door behind her and clicks shut the lock with a ringing finality.

She says nothing, only raises her hands immediately and pulls the red scarf loose of its knot around her neck and drapes it over the doorknob, eyes dark, flicking to him as if saying with the action that all attachments - all ranks and high stakes and devotions beyond this room - have been temporarily suspended.

He uncrosses his legs, snapping the book shut and sets it on the side table.

She crosses the room to him and, without hesitation or preamble, straddles his hips, sliding her hands into his hair and yanks, just on this side of too hard, pulling his face roughly to hers.

He groans into her lips and she nips, hard, at his own before opening to him and he slides his tongue inside to taste the wet heat there. Her body is rocking against him in the most delicious way and she smells like the clean nothingness of military issue soap the leather of their maneuver gear and he starts to slide his hands up to her waist to tangle in the straps there.

Then, suddenly, the fingers in his hair jerk his head back, leaving both of them panting into the scarce few inches between their mouths and her eyes track his tongue as darts out to rewet his lips.

"Hello to you too, brat," he retorts, voice rough and not as steady as he hoped it would be.

"Shut up," she grows, tugging his hair again, hard, and _fuck_ does he love that, the skittering flash of pain across his scalp shooting straight downwards.

She shifts, feeling the twitch in his pants beneath her, and a dark smirk flashes across her lips.

"Sometimes I forget how much you get off on pain, you sick fuck." Her voice is low and breathless in his ear.

"You're one to talk, Ackerman," he counters, his own hands coming up and clamping around her wrists, pulling them from his hair, squeezing hard enough he swears he can feel those small bones grind together. He pulls her by the wrists toward him, just enough so he can sink his teeth into the soft flesh of her neck and hears her punch out a soft: " _Fuck,_ " feeling her buck involuntarily into him, and smirks into her skin.

Drawing back, he licks once over the red welts he's drawn from the pale skin before meeting her gaze again.

"You were saying?"

"Fuck you."

"Is that an challenge or a request?"

Her only response is to, wrists still held in his iron grip, thrust her lower half against his again. Knowing she can see his eyes glaze for a moment at the sensation and the tightening in his jaw, he curses himself.

Leaning close to his ear, she whispers, voice low with lust and threat,

"I want you on your knees, _now_."

"You'll have to make me," he hisses back.

And here, there is their usual rough tumble of nails biting into flesh, tugging and ripping, teeth and fingers pressing bruises into skin, to determine who will win the right to control the other today. Finally her wrists are yanked free of his grasp and he ends up, indeed, kneeling on the soft carpet of the floor, her hands once again latched painfully in his hair.

"If I didn't know better," she says a bit breathless, looking down at him, "I would say you lost on purpose today, you masochistic jackass."

"Maybe..." he begins slowly, eyes trailing lazily up her body, "I just don't get my fucking panties in a twist about it since I know you'll get what's coming to you.."

In response, she only growls,

"Stay there."

Shedding her uniform, she returns to him clad only in her bra and underwear, all pale skin sliced into sections by dark maneuver gear bruises and he licks his lips subconsciously, wishing he could undress as well because his trousers are starting to feel much too tight. But he stays where he was told because, for now, this time at least, she is in charge.

"Comfortable?" She asks, standing in front of him, so close that his nose is almost brushing the fabric of her underwear.

"Not particularly."

"Good."

And suddenly his face is pushed between her legs, the heady scent of her filling his head and he groans into her, tongue tracing just above the waistband, reaching up to rest his hands on her thighs, but her voice stops him, low, breathless, dark.

"Hands behind your back or I'll tie them there."

"Yes, ma'am." He complies and she feels his smile against her, low, amused voice vibrating into the soft skin and fabric, and he starts licking down, fingers digging into his own thighs beneath him with shivery lust, and his tongue finds her center, damn through her underwear, licking her with long rough strokes.

"Take these off," he growls, hoping his words aren't too muffled for her to hear, "I want to taste you."

Too flushed to snap back at the moment, she quickly complies and their positions are resumed and, _fuck,_ his tongue is finally on her and she lets out a choked sound at the motions he is now making on her heated flesh.

"Shit," she hisses, subtly tugging him one way or another for the best feeling, shuddering with every little flick and languid scrape.

"Fuck you taste good," he breathes, pulling back to do so, strings of saliva and her wetness cling to his lips. But just as suddenly he is knocked breathless by the sudden stinging slap across his face, both shocked by and relishing the skittering of pain and sudden flush of heat that rises on his cheekbone as his body's response to the strike.

"Did I say you could talk?"

He glares up at her, eyes dark with a mixture of defiance and aggression and lust, hands still obediantly behind his back, panting, lips shining, and shakes his head, once.

"That's what I thought."

She pulls his face flush against her again and grinds into him. They continue until she is gasping, nails scratching into his scalp and his jaw is aching so wonderfully, cock straining hot and hard against his pants. He moans long and low into her when he feels the heel of one of her feet grind into his crotch, too hard but oh so good.

"You're fucking filthy," she gasps and he shudders at the words.

He uses his teeth, unrelenting because he knows she likes an edge with her pleasure, just like him because they are one in the same and she is practically vibrating with sensation above him.

"Shit, shit, ahh, fuck, L-Levi," by her frantic whispers and the erratic rocking of her hips he can tell she's close.

"Want my fingers?" He manages around her.

"Fuck yes, yes, _fuck_ ," Mikasa grinds out, and his hand shoots up. Then, without hesitation, three of his fingers are thrust roughly inside her and she almost screams, fingers in his hair contracting painfully as he sucks roughly at her clit. "Yeah, shit, I'm- I'm... shit, mmm!"

He is smiling when her voice cuts off abruptly - she is always completely silent when she comes - followed by a full body shudder that shoots tremors through her every extremity, riding out her orgasm on the fingers still stretching her. He feels his cock twitch in his pants, so _so_ fucking hard now, at the sudden contractions of her walls as she comes and groans into her.

He works her through it until she comes down, the slick sounds of his fingers and tongue and her panting suddenly very loud in the otherwise quiet room.

Apparently having had her fill, she shoves him away and from his knees to his back, pinning him to the floor, a foot heavy atop his chest, chest still heaving.

"Well?"

He licks her wetness from his lips, panting lightly, staring up at her.

"Fuck me," he rasps, voice hoarse.

Her answering grin is positively wicked.


End file.
